AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It’s old blood.” The chimera wound will heal without human intervention, and he has no desire to submit to being poked and prodded. He hates healers.
“I’ll have him look you over anyway. What about your companion?”
Arsene hesitates. The burning echo of Nur’s wound around his neck comes to mind. It was inflamed when Arsene saw it—infected. Do Hellbeasts heal like angels?
“No need—I’m self-healing,” Nur declares quickly.
Myra ignores him. She stops in front of a tall tent with a red banner outside and lifts the flap. “Irvin, I have fresh prey for you.”
“Bring them in,” comes a deep voice.
She gives them both a pointed look. To Arsene’s surprise, the hollow ducks under the flap.
“Truly, I have no need of a human doctor,” he protests.
“Just get in there.” She leans in. “I’m quite aware your little friend is the one who was terrorizing our camp, so I don’t know what you’re playing at. Irvin will give me a full assessment of both of you, since I can’t trust you not to lie.”
Arsene goes inside.
The medical tent is hung with extra drapes to dampen the outside noise, an immediate relief from the clatter of the camp. Irvin, the human doctor, is a tall, narrow man with dark eyes and a serious demeanour. He stands to greet them.
“Ahh. A demon,” he says immediately.
Arsene stiffens. “He’s not?—”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Nur interrupts. “You can call me Nur.”
He tries the same trick on the doctor as he used on Myra, bowing over his hand. Irvin lets him, a look of curiosity growing. Heat builds under Arsene’s collar. What is the hollow playing at?
“Nota demon,” the doctor concludes.
Nur drops the hand like it’s burned him. “How did you know?”
“I’ve never met one with manners,” Irvin says with a smile. “Sit. I’ll ask you some questions in a moment.” He turns to Arsene. “Show me, then. Josi already told me you’re wounded, so you may as well not try to hide it.”
“I don’t need human medicine,” Arsene says stiffly.
“I’m sure. But indulge me.”
Arsene grimaces. At home, seeing the healers is difficult—every visit brings him back to the sentinel house. The endless rounds of injection and recovery. Burning, sweating, howling in his tiny room while the serum that would turn him into a primus seared through his veins. He’s not at home, though, and this doctor can’t hurt him. What if the hollow interprets his reluctance as weakness?
Carefully, he opens his jacket. His shirt is tattered and stained with old, dried blood. He pulls it away and bares the scab.
Irvin’s lips thin. He prods at the flesh surrounding the wound. “Does that hurt?”
“Hardly.”
“It looks like it’s healing fine. Maybe stick to light duties for now.”
“I’ll tell the bandits to hold off.” He lets his shirt drop.
Irvin straightens. “You’re free to go. Seems I can’t do anything for you that your masters haven’t done already. Damn, if I could get my hands on that magical serum…”
“It would kill a human.” He struggles to slide each tarnished button into its buttonhole, turning away so neither of the two see his fingers slip. “Nearly felt like it killed me.”
“Shame. Ruthless lot, your kind.” Irvin sighs. When Arsene doesn’t move, he makes a shoo-ing motion with his hand. “Out, please.”
“I’d rather stay?—”
